


Daisy

by LadyWynne



Series: Outlander Bouquet [1]
Category: Outlander & Related Fandoms, Outlander Series - Diana Gabaldon
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-04
Updated: 2019-05-04
Packaged: 2020-02-25 22:23:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 906
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18710878
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyWynne/pseuds/LadyWynne
Summary: Mandy contemplates her future.





	Daisy

**Author's Note:**

> Hello all. I hope to make this the first in a ficlet series based on flowers. Each installment will be a vignette from the perspective of a different Outlander character. I hope you enjoy!

**Daisy**

Purity, Innocence, and Loyal Love

 

Mandy, 1793 

_Lovely, unassuming thing,_

_Unto thee I praises sing;_

_Regal greatness do I see_

_In thy sweet humility._

Ode to the Daisy (partial) by Peter Burn

Mandy wanders through the tall grass of the hillside, keeping one eye on the goats as she idly picks wildflowers. _Maybe I’ll bring a posy back for Mama._ It is a beautiful day. The sun is warm on her dark curls, and a cheerful breeze keeps it from being too hot. The peaceful hum of bees fills the air along with the heavy perfume of flowers. The combination is soothing. It helps her to think.

Mandy has some decisions to make about her future. She is seventeen now, and there has been talk of sending her to Cross Creek, to introduce her into society and receive a bit of education, mostly in the form of music, dancing, literature, and French (which she already knows). She sighs at the thought. She is fond of the arts, but overall it feels like unnecessary frippery. She wants to be useful. She wants to do good.

Unfortunately, her options are limited. Her mother has told her about the huge campus and great brick buildings Harvard boasts, but women aren’t accepted yet. _I suppose I could go back_. Despite the frightening, contorted images she remembers from the stones it is a temptation. The 20th century world, with all its opportunities, forms a sort of backdrop to her family. It is obvious they are somehow different from their neighbors. She has been raised differently, and it would be a wonder to travel there, to see what has shaped her so subtly but so profoundly. But no. Her family is here. Her place is here. She pauses in her walk and raises her head to the vista before her. Her eyes scan the undulating green mountains and the skittering clouds overhead. _This is my home._ Mandy has heard Grandda speak a few times of how he needs the mountains. She understands, and she is happy to have that in common with him.

Mandy takes final stock of the goats, full and redolent in the sun, before sitting down in the grass. There are other considerations, several in fact.  Jared Beardsley has been very attentive to her lately, as have other of the Ridge’s young men. Although not vain, Mandy is aware her appearance is striking. She is fair, with a head of black curls quite as riotous as Granny’s. Her face boasts clear blue eyes and an advantageous sprinkling of freckles across her nose. She knows she draws men’s eyes. She isn’t interested in Jared though. As kind as he is, and as good a provider as he would be, he isn’t right for her.

She _is_ interested in one Thomas Crombie. The young man is tall with sandy blonde hair and the most soulful dark brown eyes. She feels herself sigh thinking of him, and then mentally laughs at her own silliness. Still, she can’t deny being drawn to Thomas. He recently returned from seminary and will be working closely with her father, the idea being that he will eventually take over the congregation, since every day Roger is handling more of the running of the Ridge.

Mandy smiles at the memory of the night before. Thomas had joined her family for dinner at the Big House. He shared news and tidbits from his time away, respectfully answering her grandfather’s questions about how the new nation is faring. Thomas was confident and engaging, but more than once she caught his eyes on her. After dinner, as the older adults settled in for coffee and a comfortable evening, Thomas had seen her fidgeting. He had stood then, stepped formally in front of her father and asked permission to walk her home. Roger had assented with equal seriousness, but Mandy could detect a tell-tale twinkle in his green eyes. She had turned away quickly with a blush when he looked at her. The walk down the trail had been very pleasant, and they had sat properly on a bench outside the cabin for a little while, talking. Mandy expected Thomas to ask permission to court her very soon.

Now, in the warm sun, she has time to really consider Thomas and the life he represents. She pulls a single daisy from the bouquet at her side, and it comes to her that yes, she does fancy both Thomas himself and the full life of a minister’s wife. She understands the responsibility well, being her father’s daughter, and she knows that such a life will at least give her the opportunity to help others. Imagining it, she feels herself begin to smile, and she starts to pluck the petals from the daisy in her hand, one by one, saying the words without thinking.

_Je t'aime.._

_...un peu..._

_...beaucoup..._

_...passionnément..._

_...pas du tout..._

It is her parents’ poem, translated “I Love you ... a little ... a lot ... passionately ... not at all.”  She grew up knowing it and giggling over it with the other girls on the Ridge. Her fingers travel round the bright center, and as the last petal pulls away she murmurs, “ _beaucoup_.”

Mandy sits quite still for a moment, then grinning, kisses the naked stalk. _Well Amanda, as Granny would say, that’s quite enough to be going on with_.  She stands, decision made and heart lightened. It’s time to go home.

 

             


End file.
